Sadness is just a word.
If I want to state what it means to me, I would have to mention the day Willow died. Our beloved pet.
My name here is a combination of hers and her sister's name Roxy. Today almost three months after Willow perished, Roxy is still sleeping in our room for she hates being alone, when she goes from room to room, she cries in what we can only think is a constant look out for Willow. We got to a point, where a device that releases catnip fragrance was bought in order to ease her sadness. She is starting to sleep better, recently she started to go in the back room in our house where hers and Willow's bed use to be, she curls in their spot and now naps in the afternoon, maybe she is getting better or maybe she just doesn't care, after all she is only a cat.
But for us, willow's death was bad, I was very angry with the way Paul, my partner dealt with her death and disposal of her body. I had gone to work that Sunday morning having Willow waking me up by sleeping in my pillow and return to having no Willow at all. Anger so bitter and black made me want to hurl abuse, which I did at him for a month, it almost brook us apart. Today there is a picture in what Paul calls Willow's shop in our bedroom, she no longer wakes me up, but she is there when I wake up in the morning and when I go to bed, Willow is no longer physically with us, but she hasn't left either.
She was my beloved pet, I miss her. Actually that is wrong, Willow is my beloved pet.